On the day you were born the night was alive. The wind hurled itself into the windows and every sensible person was cuddled up inside. Me, not being totally sensible, was standing outside to herald the birth of a new Whitworth. It curled round me like a blanket and combed through my hair like a restless wave. Whoever it is you are, and whatever it is you become is welcomed into the open arms of your family. And not only the blood relatives, but the lives of everybody the warmth of your parents has touched. I, for one, am grateful to be one of them. Happy birthday Charlie.

L.G.